


The wolf man and the albino get it on (ur welcome)

by flyweeabooty



Category: Wolve - Fandom, Wolverine (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Caliban is a lucky bastard, Intersex, Intersex Character, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 09:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14054280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyweeabooty/pseuds/flyweeabooty
Summary: Yeah I just wanted write Caliban gettin' his pussy ate. Btw my headcanon is that he's intersex so ye





	The wolf man and the albino get it on (ur welcome)

Either because he's ashamed or just shy, Caliban rarely lets himself be exposed around Logan. He's private and careful in getting dressed, waiting until the other is long gone or keeping the door shut tight. Logan supposes it makes sense - with a mutation like that he can't really risk it. But even at night it's all long sleeves and long pants.

Logan couldn't care less for ‘decency.’ If he forgets his clothes, and he often does, he just walks out without even a towel around his waist, dripping across tile and concrete in all his stark naked glory. And maybe he revels a bit too much in the reaction such parades get him - Caliban's cheeks turning pink while he abruptly finds something else to pretend to be interested in. Pointedly looking elsewhere while he demands to know if Logan was raised in a barn.

The first time he catches a glimpse it's from his peripheral. He turns on instinct, a blur of motion drawing his attention - not because he's actively prying. And oh does it freeze him, leaving him standing with arms stuck in the mid-sway of his stride. 

Spine. Each vertebrae sticking like ridges out of the curved hill of Caliban's back. Hips. Narrow and sharp. Legs. Miles long and just as thin as the rest of him. 

With the way he's wired, Logan can't help realizing how fragile all that is to him. How easily bones crack and break between his hands. The only thing he can do is chase the unwanted thought away.

Never. NEVER. No way to live with himself if he ever touched Caliban that way, ever put a hand on him that wasn't gentle, controlled. 

So he stands there with a drying mouth like an idiot, thinking about ways to be gentle. And he does have to ponder it because God didn't give him tender hands. He wasn't like Caliban - couldn't ever hope to replicate the delicate bump of his shoulder when he sat himself achingly close, or the careful steadiness of his hands when he stitched both clothes and flesh.

How careless he's been suddenly crashes down as Caliban turns his head to peer straight at him. The hair on Logan's arms stand up as the other man's striking eyes lock on. 

“Can I help you.” Flat. Without the upward pitch of an interrogative. It wasn't a question.

“No,” Logan chokes. “Sorry,” he adds in a quick grumble as he sharply dips his head away. He otherwise still hasn't moved.

Now Caliban shifts his whole body. His arms lock in a criss-cross over his chest, though whether it's to cover himself or a haughty gesture is unclear. The expression on his face is one of impatient expectation.

“Ehm.” An awkward cough. His eyes flit back to Caliban, land on his collarbone for a moment, and then look away again. “You uhhh… gettin’ dressed?” What a stupid fucking question.

The pinch of the other man's lips seems to confirm that the question was indeed dumb. “I was. Not everyone likes to walk around naked, Logan.”

“Too bad,” Logan replies, a hint of mischief working itself onto his face. Crinkles around his eyes as they shift from shameful to sly.

That gets Caliban's demeanor to stumble. His eyebrows raise, and he had to school his expression back into submission. “I’m cold,” he not-so-politely informs his companion, “so if you're finished…”

Wrong thing to say, if the wickedness in Logan's voice is any indication. “Need someone to warm you up?” Ahh, there's good ol’ Logan.

With skin as pale as his, there's no hope of concealing the red that washes into it. Even so, there's daggers in his eyes. “Cute. But no.”

Being shot down like that? Not something the Wolverine is really used to, and it shows. His confidence sinks like a brick, smirk wiped away. Looks like a kicked puppy.

Once again Caliban's faltering, confusion knitting his brows. His weight shifts, and he tucks his arms even tighter. “That wasn't… you were joking, yeah? Pulling my leg?”

Logan's turn to be baffled. “The hell made you think that?”

“Well I don't exactly find myself with people lined up to see me naked,” Caliban deflects, growing redder by the second.

“Ain't my fault they're missin’ out.” A real Casanova. “And I ain't sorry cause it means a front row seat for me.” 

Caliban turns away, and rears his head off to the side, caught in a laugh. “I can't bloody stand you.” He only peeks out past his hand to add, “You're incorrigible.”

Logan meets him with a toothy grin, back in familiar territory. A few steps forward, and then a hand landing on Caliban's hip. He tilts his head to search the other's face, seeking permission. When he gets it, he doesn't hesitate. It won't take long before he's got Caliban’s long legs spread wide enough to get his head between them.

His mouth presses to the split between Caliban's labia and lands a kiss. It's hot and wet, a good tease. A moment later his tongue darts out and runs over the soft, puffy flesh. The little hitch in his partner's breath twists a smile into the corner of Logan's lips. 

The moan he gets when he starts sucking on Caliban's clit are what finally do him in. Still working away, Logan jams a hand down to frantically undo his own jeans. As soon as they're down past his knees he gets his fingers around his cock, breathing hard in relief against the other man’s cunt while he starts pumping.

Satisfied for now with just stroking himself, he lets Caliban gasp and moan and grind up on his face. A white fist full of pepper-gray hair keeping Logan right where he needs to be. It's the kind of hot and needy he likes best, the kind he takes pride in.

In younger years he was pretty good at holding out, but with scars lining his lungs he can't keep down forever. Logan has to lift his head, inhaling quickly, a bit out of breath. It lets him get a good look at Caliban though. 

The man in question has his chest heaving almost as much, face and chest completely flushed, and his legs pulled up so his toes could curl into the sheets. Logan's cock twitches in his hand.

What he doesn't expect is the immediate gratification. He's confused when Caliban abruptly hefts himself up without explanation. A moment later he's being pushed onto his back and mounted. Caliban doesn't say anything, only makes a somewhat embarrassed expression while sliding Logan inside himself.

“Fuck,” Logan grunts in a husky voice. “Holy fuck that's so hot.” 

He only gets a tiny nod and a quirked lip from his partner in reply, but Caliban does grace him with the rolling of hips.

Those hips are promptly grabbed and held while Logan pushes up into them. With no other support for himself, Caliban grips onto Logan's shoulders. He stares down at a tan bare chest and watches a set of enormous pecs bounce every time the man below him thrusts. 

For the most part Logan's slow and sensual, running his hands up and down his lover's spine, feeling those fragile ridges. What stirs him up is a thickly moaned, “/Logan/” right next to his ear. He grips a little tighter, fucks a little faster.

Unsurprisingly, the harder he fucks, the harder Caliban moans. And he does try to be gentle, to be tender, but there's also no harm in a good love bite. Or a few. On the neck, on the shoulder, on the ear.

Later Caliban counts all the marks up in the mirror and complains. “You little leech, have a look! Expect me to greet Charles like this? Bloody hell.”


End file.
